Getting the Fix
by format16
Summary: Nightwing was subjected to a high concentration of recreational morphine during a kidnapping. In these troubled times he turns to the drug again. With worried team members, a disappointed father, angry friends and an entire city in his hands there's no end in sight. Now with the sudden return of Deathstroke, there's no telling what the future may hold.
1. Prologue

Getting the Fix

Prologue:

"Robin to Nightwing," Tim's voice sounded calm enough, even through the monochrome speaker.

"Robin to Nightwing," Concerned, now. Still posed, but a trained ear could easily hear his anxiety and quiet, doddering voice.

"Nightwing, Robin to Nightwing," Obvious worry, and fear. The sinking tone that tried to remain professional, clashing with the youth of the hero.

"Batman to Nightwing. Report immediately." The blaring indication left by the transformation of the voice made him hunch his shoulders and dig his head into his hands.

"Nightwing report now, or we will take drastic measures." The concern in his father's voice sent guilt like a plague, infecting and spreading throughout his entire body, starting from his heart and bleeding out.

It had to be the worst part of these kinds of situations. It wasn't the fear of blacking out in your enemy's grasp; it wasn't the vulnerability of being submitted to the harsh bondage always complementing captivity. Not even the beatings, interrogations, or various forms of torture. It was even worse then allowing your teammates to see the damages as disinfectant, stitches, braces, casts, and bandages were applied.

It was after everything had finished, and you returned, alone, to your room. The lights out, you are left alone to your thoughts and must somehow ease yourself to sleep. Insomnia steals the only sanctuary of peace left, leaving you with a red, blinking light of your communicator.

Message after message you can hear the growing worry and panic set in. With each beep, an escalating downpour of guilt cascades into your very pores. You can to comfort them, to hold them and reassure them. Don't worry, please. It ends up fine. It wasn't worth the worry.

Usually the rejoice and relief of the rescue, of embraces and hands on shoulders, threatening death if the event ever should happen again ease this state of depression. Not this time. This time was different.

There was no diabolical villain that stole him away from the quiet lull of normalcy. He wasn't torn away from his responsibilities because of impending chaos that left him incapacitated. This time the foe was himself. His own weakness, his own error.

Dick watched as the needle rolled away, under the bed. The addicting poison filled his veins as withdrawal started to wane. It was all he could take, and soon he collapsed into a huddled mess of tears and cries.

To be continued.


	2. Chapter I

Chapter I

"I think you're pushing yourself too hard. I know that we need you, and that Bludhaven needs you, but you're spreading yourself too thin!" Tim's eyebrows furrowed as he leaned over the car door.

"We talked about this, Tim. Let's just get through this dinner. It'll be hard enough as it is," Dick slammed his car door closed. It looked out of place, rusting and old, in the refined Wayne manor driveway. He didn't make enough on a beginning officer's salary to support both an apartment and a nice car, and he wasn't about to take money from Bruce.

"I'm just saying. Maybe you should stay here for a while. Just to calm down? Maybe you can patrol as Robin again." Tim followed him to his trunk and grabbed his duffle bag of a suitcase. Tim was always so sweet. The moment he heard the gas guzzler of a car's engine he ran out and hugged his adopted brother through the rolled down window.

"Yeah, that'll work out. One night there's a thirteen year old in the old red and black, the next, a full grown man. The thugs in Gotham are stupid, but not _that _idiotic." Dick took back his bag and tossed it over his shoulder. He looked up at his childhood home. It always looked best like this, snow falling in the shadow of the stars.

The snow built up in his combat boots as he walked up the driveway. Most would think the warm light protruding from the windows to be inviting. Dick, however, saw the impending debacles sure to take place. He wished he could capture again the feeling of safety and rejoice in seeing his family again.

"Then come with us as Nightwing, Why are you fighting this so much?" Tim closed the trunk and caught up with him, galvanizing his brother from his reminiscent stare at the manor. ". . . Dick?"

"Huh?" Dick had to remind himself to keep conversation. "Oh, yeah like the great Batman would allow an outside hero into his city." God, he hated talking about this with his naïve, hopeful little brother. He could almost see disappointment stealing away his faith. "Besides Timmy, I wouldn't steal your glory." He smiled and scuffled the younger's hair and walked past him and started climbing the stairs to the main entrance.

His brother stopped in his tracks. ". . . You know he doesn't think of you like that." His voice was barely above a whisper.

His brother pretended to not hear it and walked straight ahead. Before he could even reach for the door handle, the door was pulled open. Alfred stood at the poor with an absent-minded smile on his face. One of the worst parts of leaving was how much he knew it had hurt his grandfather-like figure.

"Master Richard, it's good to see you again." Dick smiled at the butler and walked into the main hall. It had only now set in that it had been an entire year since he had been here. Still, though, nothing had changed.

"Good to see you too, Alfie." It felt so odd to use such a childish nickname in a now deep, matured voice. The word had slid off his tongue without his consent. He didn't mind to be reminded of his childhood, he had expected such, anyway. "I think I'm gonna drop my stuff in my room,"

"Of course sir, dinner will be served at 7:00," Dick didn't miss Tim's slightly annoyed expression. He knew he would have to face the third member of the household, but he would put it off as long as he could.

He climbed the stairs up to the second floor quickly, and auto-piloted his way to his room. It was almost eerie that everything remained exactly where he had put it, but still managed to be well dusted. He mentally tipped his hat off to Alfred. Dick threw the bag onto the floor and collapsed onto his bed.

It was probably the worst decision he could have made, as he was quickly reminded of the lack of sleep he'd been getting. He allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment, then hopped off the king sized mattress, once again evading sleep.

Checking his watch, Dick paced his room. He had to somehow spend an hour in his old bedroom. His old desk caught his eye, sitting in the corner he could almost see a shadow of himself hunched over it working on some kind of work.

He smiled as he sunk into his old chair. He remembered the late nights he spend in it, but also the weekends spent cross-legged, controller in hand fighting zombies with Roy and Wally. God, he missed those carefree days.

Dick pulled opened the drawers and started cleaning out the memories within. He found old reports, both school and team-based ones. He had millions of forms from senior year, left there in fear of throwing away something important. Glancing up at his diploma now framed above him, he crumpled those into the filling waste bin. A picture of an amusement park day-trip made him pause and smile. Roy was glaring out at some unseen annoyance, Wally grinning with his arm hooked around Dick, who was pulling an unwilling Jason into the camera's sight.

He had almost forgotten about that day. Even if Jason hated it; he had been the trio's new baby. He couldn't believe it had already been two years since his death. Dick sighed and rubbing his temples, put the photo in his bag, deciding to keep it and bring it back to his apartment.

He continued to dig through the various things he had kept in his desk. His waste bin was now almost spilling over. He was going through old covert mission reports when his hands trailed over a file that hadn't been labeled. He'd been going through copies of reports for almost an hour now; all of them had been labeled. Being the forever-organized boy he was, he decided to read, label and file the case.

Opening the cream colored folder he took note of the date and tried to remember what happened. As he started to read the case, someone knocked at the door. Slowly tearing his eyes from the page he closed it and answered, "Be down in a second," He packed the folder into his bag along with the picture, deciding to do it later,

"An hour means 60 minutes, you've only been gone for a year. And I know you haven't forgotten that Alfred takes punctuality very seriously." Tim playfully chastised through the high-end wood.

The former Robin opened the door and looked at his brother. "Then I guess we're both in trouble, aren't we?" He knew Tim wasn't sent, but rather came as an excuse to talk to his distanced sibling.

Tim groaned and started trudging down the stairs. "I can't just win, can I? Just once would be nice." Dick laughed and followed to the pending dinner.

* * *

"You know that's not what I meant. It just makes more sense for you to start a career with Wayne Tech here in Gotham, and patrol at night. You would have more time to train the team, which should be your priority. Their success is entirely in your hands." Dick glared at his green beans and started stabbing them with his fork. The formalities had ended and now they were full swing into a lecture.

"I bet it would 'make more sense' then, for me to move back with you?" He said now, meeting Bruce's eyes.

"I never said that, Dick. Economically, yes. It would also suite your needs better. But I understand that you're almost 19 and want to live alone."

"Why can't I live alone in Buldhaven?" Tim looked thoroughly disappointed with his head against his fist as he played with the chicken.

"We don't have to discuss this if you are going to be taking everything with such hostility." Bruce ate his third bite of his meal, having been in a debate for the majority of the dinner.

"No, no, no. I want to know, why can't I stay in Buldhaven. You know, the city with a higher crime rate then Gotham? The one in more need of help." Dick crossed his arms in front of him, staring Bruce down.

"That's exactly my point."

Dick's eyes widened and continued to stare. "And what point would that be?"

The philanthropist sighed. ". . . Look, if _I _have two partners and can barely keep Gotham above a state of chaos, then . . ." His glare remained, daring his father to finish his thought. ". . . Then how can you possibly single handedly handle Buldhaven?"

"See? That's my point! You don't trust me! You think I'm still an incompetent, little kid!"

"You know that's not true. You're twisting my words to serve your point." Bruce put down his silverware and now focused entirely on his son.

"No, I'm just translating your bat-language into the vernacular. Just admit that you don't think I can handle myself! Ever since that one run in with Deathstroke, you've been hyper-paranoid and ridiculous! JUST ADMIT IT!" The entire conversation had now pushed Dick over the edge as he screamed and pounded his fist against the table.

"FINE! YES, I DON'T THINK YOU CAN HANDLE YOURSELF!' Bruce lost his calm demeanor in the face of his screaming son. "And quite frankly with your work with Aqualad, Artemis' death and the team's current state I don't think you are ready for being leader either."

Silence took its place after that. "Thanks for dinner, Alf." Tim's small voice tried to recapture peace.

After a few moments of Dick being stunned from the sudden reality the conversation transformed into, he stormed out of the room. He dashed up the stairs and grabbed his bag. He knew he wouldn't be staying for long, but he had at least expected to stay the night. He turned off the light and headed for his car.

"Dick, we are not finished talking." Bruce said as Dick reached the foyer. He wanted to scream at him, to pound his fists and punch the wall. He knew he had to get away before his anger dissipated, and hurt took over.

"Please Dick, it's Christmas Eve." Any anger he had vanished seeing Tim slumped over in the archway. He felt his rage return as he looked into his brothers lost, hopeful eyes.

He returned his glare to his father. "Do you see what you do? Jason was right about you!"

"I haven't done anything, you are causing this drama. And don't you dare mention Jason!" Bruce tried to remain calm and turn things around. Still, his eyes were quickly turning red.

"Fine Bruce. Fine. I don't care what you say. I'm done." Dick stormed past Bruce, trying to avoid making eye contact with Tim or Alfred who had now walked into the room. Dick took a final look at the room "Merry Christmas," And slammed the door.

* * *

Dick let his head fall into the steering wheel as he pulled into a parking space outside of his apartment. He couldn't believe he had allowed things to spiral so out of control like he had. Finally, his childhood nightmare had come true. He'd become the Grinch, and ruined Christmas.

Voices broke him out of his depression. He opened the window and listened, quickly recognizing the sounds of a mugging. He changed into a spare suit in the pack of his car with speed that would rival Flash, and fled the car.

Nightwing crouched down, and peaked around the corner. It seemed to be an inter-gang scuffle. He stayed close to the wall, in the shadows, and approached the group. He quickly recognized the language they were speaking as Italian, and made a mental note.

Nightwing took one breath before taking down the first thug. "Damn it! Everyone scram!" The assumed leader sprayed mace at his face. Nightwing blocked most of it, but the beginning stream still made it onto his mask and trailed down to his nose. The pungent toxin distracted him long enough for the thugs to escape.

Nightwing looked around for them before clutching his head in his hands, "Damn it! What is wrong with me?" He muttered under his breath. He was about to return home when he saw a plastic bag with a needle and a glass bottle. Dick picked it up and examined it. Morphine, it must have been left by the gang. He decided he'd return it in the morning. He needed the bonus his boss was sure to give him as a rookie turning in something like this.

As soon as Dick returned to his apartment, he allowed himself to collapse onto the pull out sofa/bed. He felt a migraine coming on; his eyes must have still been red from the irritating smell of mace. He looked at the plastic bag in his hand, deciding to take a closer look. The liquid was clear, in an unlabeled glass bottle.

Unlabeled . . . it reminded Dick of the report he found. His blues eyes scanned the room for his clock, seeing the time was now 11:09 PM. Dick sighed again; he hadn't gone to bed this early in years. He could spare the time to read a case study.

He glided the folder out of his bag. The photo had snagged itself on the zipper. Richard quickly removed it in an effort to save it from falling to his absent-mindedness.

As soon as he started reading he knew what case it was. One of the missions that lead to his split with the 'Boy Wonder: Bat's Sidekick' gimmick. The team infiltrated a small group of thugs working for the Injustice League. The tip they had received had greatly understated the exact number of thugs, however. They were outnumbered and quickly overtaken.

They took each member into a different cellblock. The guards watching over Nightwing, Robin at the time, had different plans then the rest of the group. Robin was knocked unconscious. By the time he'd awoken, he was well under the effects as what would later be identified as morphine. Euphoria flowed through his veins, and his problems completely dissipated. By the Justice League arrived, it had started to wear off.

Bruce had wanted to pull Dick from the team. They had never figured out why he had been singled out. On the paper; Aqualad wrote that the guards probably were under the same orders and took initiative for their own purposes. But, the chances of thugs taking that large of a risk, wasting their drugs, and putting themselves in danger for a laugh were slim to none. 'Daddy-Bats' searched for an answer for a solid two months before abandoning his quest.

Dick never told Bruce that for some time after that, he yearned for that toxic dream where nothing mattered. If he had, he didn't even know what Bruce would do. He would have been pulled from the team, maybe even from crime fighting entirely.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he labeled the file and returned it to his bag. He looked back at the photo lying innocently on his sheets. He picked it up and ghosted his fingers over Jason's face. He remembered when Roy was still carefree and 'harmlessly' rebellious. When Wally was still his best friend, and didn't scorn him every time they met.

He remembered when Jason was alive

The young hero looked out the window at the falling, snow. In Buldhaven, it looked more like soot. Everything was so messed up now. It was Christmas and he was alone after returning from a screaming match with his father. Dick looked over at the framed picture of his parents beside his bed. He climbed over and held it to his chest. God, how he missed Christmas with them. Things were so much simpler back then.

The migraine was worse now; it was all he could do to stop from bursting into tears. He turned to his side and closed his eyes tightly. The boy tried to will himself into sleep but he couldn't. His problems filled his head, and something was digging into his side.

He reached under himself and pulled out the drug bag from before. Briefly he entertained the idea of using it. But then, he thought of his father's disappointed face. What would Bruce say if he found out?

His eyes narrowed. What has he not said? He already admitted that he didn't trust him. He had burnt that bridge. What use was saving the glowing embers?

Just once would be fine, an isolated incident. It was Christmas, after all.

* * *

**Hello my dear readers! I'm so excited for this story and I'll be updating soon. I love reviews and I promise that you will speed up the process if you do review. I really look forward to feedback, positive and negative...and neutral I suppose as well. I really love the people who followed/favorited the story with such a pathetically short prologue, I wasn't expecting it. Also, small shout out to my first two reviewers: starwarsfan15 and TheInvisibleGurlz, this chapter was for you!  
**

**Please review! And, thank you! **


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